Avarice: The Realm Chapter 11: Cows that Type

Cows that Type

After fast traveling to Fort Lincoln I hand the apprehension module off to Pierre. As he takes it from me, I pause.

“Is there a gold card that will revive you after you die?” I ask.

“There is,” says Pierre. “Afterlife. It revives you after you die once.”

“I see,” I say. “It looks like Peter Cool used it.”

Pierre frowns. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he says. “Mandrake Signa never wastes gold cards.”

I shrug. “Well, I know that Peter was killed and then became a ghost before I tranquilized him.” I scratch my chin. “And he conjured some pretty nasty man traps.”

“We understand,” says Pierre. “What about the Dawn Wonderers? Did you get on their good side?”

“It seems they wanted Peter dead too,” I say. “So I think they’ll forgive me for peeling away from the dungeon raid before it was over.”

Pierre nods. “I’m going to have to contact their leader soon and inform them of what happened.” He turns away. “Good job. I assume you’ll be working on the Mandrake problem.”

“I have a few ideas,” I say. I activate telepathy. “Garnet.”

“Yes?” she answers, through telepathy.

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay,” she says. “Meet me in the card library.”

I walk to the card library and enter, greeted as usual by a blast of air-conditioning. Garnet is sitting on the floor while sorting through boxes of cards.

“So you took him down,” she says.

“I did,” I say. I sit down next to her and begin to help.

“Did his powers give you much trouble?” asks Garnet.

“No,” I say. “But Surprise Negation saved my life.”

Garnet chuckles. “Yeah. Gold cards will do that.”

“I have a question,” I say.

“Ask,” says Garnet. She continues sorting cards into piles.

“What happens when all one hundred gold cards are collected?”

“You become a god,” says Garnet. “You gain near infinite power.”

“So I take it no one’s ever done it before,” I say.

Garnet laughs. “No! The largest gold card collection ever held by any group was thirty-two cards!” She sighs, putting a stack of MRE cards on the shelf. “No matter how hard the government tries, even though we’ve been at it for ten years, we can’t seem to earn more than one or two gold cards a year.”

“And you gave me one of them just like that,” I say.

“New gold cards are hard to find, I should say,” says Garnet. “Once the process for acquiring a certain gold card is known, it is relatively easy to acquire another copy.”

“Oh, I see,” I say. “So groups have an incentive to keep the methods of retrieving specific gold cards secret.”

“Indeed,” says Garnet. “Don’t be fooled, though. Even if you know how to acquire a certain gold card, it is still either insanely difficult of very labor-intensive to get another copy.”

“And you can sell them for a lot,” I say. I reach into my pocket and take out the half medallion I was given by the Black Marches. It’s half of a gold card. Does that make it extremely valuable?

“Right,” says Garnet. “If you ever do find the process for acquiring a gold card, the government will buy it off you for an exorbitant price.”

I show Garnet the half medallion.

She shakes her head. “The Black Marches are not a group to be trifled with,” she says. “If they tell you to do something, you’d best be doing it. If they tell you that you can’t sell it, don’t.”

“So, even the US government can’t handle them,” I say.

Garnet shrugs. “More like we don’t want to,” she says. “They aren’t harming us or our citizens, and we don’t want to provoke them.”

I understand how this works. The same thing is true for a number of Freax-based organizations. The Black Marches are on the powerful side, sure, but there’s a protocol for dealing with these people.

Garnet stands up. “What cards do you think you’ll use to capture Mandrake?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t use any of the cards I had planned to use last time,” I say. “I think I can use the same tactic I was planning to use on Peter Cool.”

“Transportal?” asks Garnet. “What are you going to use that for?”

“A pitfall,” I say. “Leading him right into lockdown. No apprehension module necessary.”

“Huh,” says Garnet. “So you’re planning to think with portals.”

“Exactly,” I say. “If I can put the transportal exit on the roof of a lockdown chamber here at Fort Lincoln, I can somehow get Mandrake to step into it.”

“Simple,” says Garnet, “But who says it will be effective?”

“It’s worth a shot,” I say. “I plan on using the rifle I got too.”

“How’s that going to work?” asks Garnet.

“When people are dodging bullets, they don’t really think about where they dodge to.”

“I see,” says Garnet. “You’re going to trick him into dodging your sniper round and send him careening into a lockdown chamber.”

“Exactly,” I say. “For that I need two copies of Transportal. One to shoot through and one to act as a pitfall.”

Garnet walks to a shelf in an adjacent row and takes a number of cards off of the wall. She returns and hands me five cards.

“You won’t know where he’ll dodge, right?” she says. “With this many transportals you can cover your bases.”

“Thanks,” I say. I take the cards and put them in my binder. “We know where Mandrake’s base is, right?”

“We’ll get it out of Ratsi or Peter Cool at some point or another,” says Garnet. “For now, why don’t you take a small break and come back tomorrow morning?” She grins. “I suggest trying to complete your reball army.”

“Aren’t we pressed for time?” I ask.

“Tell that to Ratsi or Peter Cool,” says Garnet. “Until they cave and tell us where Mandrake is, we can’t do anything.”

“What about informants?” I ask.

“We’ve tried,” says Garnet. “Mandrake is very secretive. If the informant network knew where he is, we’d be a lot better off.”

“Okay,” I say. “I understand your logic. Where do you suggest I start looking for, um, new pieces for my reball army?”

“I suggest you do the ‘catch the cows’ quest,” says Garnet. “It gives you a number of supply units that are a lot better than the ones you get in any starter kit.”

“Okay,” I say. “And where can I start this quest?”

“Evecin,” says Garnet. “Just head to the Old Gateway Tavern and talk to the NPC quest giver in the corner.”

I turn away. “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. If you do happen to get an info about Mandrake, tell me immediately.”

“Will do,” says Garnet. She continues to sort through the incoming cards.

I leave the card library and step out into the hot desert sun, and then I approach the fast travel tower. “Evecin,” I say.

The familiar beam of light envelops me and sends me flying over the game’s landscape. I land in the city of Evecin, a city built in a tight, narrow valley between two mist-topped peaks. I ask the first person I see where the Old Gateway Tavern is.

“Eh?” says the player. “Who you asking for?”

I let out a little bit of my intimidation aura. “I’m not looking for trouble,” I say. “Just tell me where it is.”

“Heh,” says the player. “You must be new here.”

I sigh, taking out a gold coin. “Here.” I flip it to him.

The man scoffs, pointing down the street. “Down there, first right, it’ll be on your left.”

“Thanks,” I say. I follow his directions and soon find myself in front of a western-style saloon with a sign reading “Old Gateway.”

I step inside. A jukebox in the corner is playing ambient music. A couple of players are celebrating around a reball table.

I approach the old man sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Eh?” says the man. “Are you a strong fella?” He looks up at me. “Do you like cows?”

I chuckle to myself. “Sure.”

A little panel appears in front of me. Quest Accepted.

“Mah cows have been infected with some sort of alien virus,” says the man. “They’ve learned how to write and read and are now protesting for wages.”

I frown. “Okay?” I say. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Find some way to keep them from ruining me with their unionization!” says the man.

“They’re unionizing?” I say. “The cows?”

“Well, yeah,” says the old man. “I told you it was an alien virus.”

“Are these cows kept for meat?” I ask.

“Well, yeah,” says the old man. “I told you it was an alien virus.”

I must have walked down the wrong conversation path. “Okay,” I say. “Do you have any ideas?”

The man’s facial expression changes. “Them aliens be coming back soon, ya hear?” he says. “Maybe you can get them to get rid of that darn tootin’ sentience virus.”

“So you want me to find a cure for sentience,” I say.

The man rocks back and forth in his seat. “Darn tootin’,” he says.

It appears I have ended the conversation tree. I turn away from the old man.

A marker appears on my status screen, telling me where the old man’s farm is. I leave the city limits and travel through a game trail until I come upon a rather large clearing, dominated by fences and a sturdy farmhouse. I hear voices coming from behind the house.

As I approach, I notice that the voices are much lower than any human being could produce. I turn around the corner and see five black and white Holstein cows sitting in a circle around a hay bale.

They’re talking to each other.

“You know Shidafroiden’s theory of impermeable possibility says that the deacon value should be over nine, right?” says the first cow to the right.

“Yes, of course,” says the second cow to the left. “But what does that have to do with Robien’s Hypothesis?”

“Hingervalues, of course!” says the closest cow.

“Oooh!” say the group of cows. They then begin to moo.

I clear my throat. The cows turn to me, as if they have just noticed me.

“Uh, hi,” I say. “Do you mind if I talk to you?”

The closest cow sighs. “Sure. You’re working for Old Man Timmers, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “He says some sort of alien infected you with … Uh, sentience.”

“But what is sentience?” says the furthest cow.

The group of cows moo in agreement.

The closest cow walks up to me and looks me in the eye. “We don’t know where we’ve come from, but we would indeed like to maintain the status quo.” He looks to his compatriots. “We are officially self-aware, after all.”

“Do you think, with your intelligence, you could figure out a compromise with the farmer?” I ask.

The cows moo, shaking their heads. “Certainly not. That farmer wants to steal our children and the products of our teats. Not to mention the ghastly end he has in mind for us.” The cow shakes its head. “Hamburgers.”

The cows moo as they join in the head shaking.

“So you want wages, then?” I ask. “And not to be eaten?”

“That is the most basic of our demands,” says the representative cow. “We are aware of many things. Some things that would surprise even you.”

“Who gave you this sentience?” I ask.

“Do you really want to know?” says the representative cow.

“I do,” I say. “Tell me everything.”

“We were given sentience by the Scithians,” says the representative cow. “We do not know much about them, except the fact that they wish to conquer this world. Now that you know, do you feel afraid?”

“Um, no,” I say. “This is a pretty classic trope.”

“Trope?” says the representative cow. “You would dare classify us into that category? What are we to you, pieces of fiction?”

“Um, sort of,” I say.

The cow sighs. “If you can cut us a deal with Old Man Timmers and get us wages, life protection, and a good benefits package, we’ll help you out.”

“I’ll try that,” I say. “It should be easy, right?”

“Old Man Timmers is a stubborn farmer,” says the cow.

The rest of the cows moo in agreement.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll try to make a deal with him.”

“Here he comes now!” says the representative cow.

I look back at the farm’s entrance. Old Man Timmers is in the process of opening the gate.

I approach him. “Hello, Farmer Timmers,” I say.

“Eh?” says Timmers. “Have ya taught those cows a lesson?”

“No,” I say. “I’m here to negotiate on their behalf.”

“Whaddya mean?” says Timmers. “You think I would really stoop to negotiating with beasts?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think they’re beasts anymore, Mr. Timmers.” I pause. “I think they can do you a lot of good if you treat them more like farm hands. Maybe get them to write a physics paper or two.”

“Plisics?” says the old man. “Whaddya mean, popsics?”

I sigh. “Just give them a typewriter and pay them a bit for their milk. Maybe you can use the proceeds from the royalties they generate to buy some non-sentient cows and use those for beef.”

The old man grunts. “I’ll sell the lot to you for two hundred gold,” he says. “Since you seem to like them so much.”

“Deal,” I say.

I transfer the money to the farmer.

The five cows, behind me, pop into card form. The cards float down to the straw where the cows had been dialoguing.

I pick them up. They’re reball pieces.

I feel like I’ve just been through something strange. These five reball pieces are of the “strategist” type, and will give my soldiers various boosts, both tactical and strategic.

Well, cool. If the rest of the quests this game has to offer are this interesting, I won’t have as bad of a time here as I thought.

I head back to the city and use the fast travel tower to return to Fort Lincoln.

Garnet is passing by the fast travel tower when I arrive. She frowns at me.

“That was quick,” she says.

“Binder,” I say. I take out one of the Cow Strategist cards.

Garnet chuckles. “I knew you would like that quest.”

“Are all quests this strange?” I ask.

“No, not really,” says Garnet. “But you did get the best strategist cards in all of reball for your effort.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, and I think I’ll enjoy reball a lot more now.”

“For sure,” says Garnet. Her facial expression changes to one of business. “We have what we need,” she says. “Ratsi caved again.”

“Great,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

Avarice: The Realm Chapter 10: Dungeon

Dungeon

Endiga is a city born from the ashes of another. It’s in the Apocalypse Biome, a stretch of land that looks like Tokyo’s urban sprawl plus fifty years of neglect. Vines creep up the walls of the buildings, and most of the glass is gone. Cars, covered in moss, molder by the side of the road.

I arrive at the fast travel tower, which is in the center of a large park featuring a gigantic elder tree. Outdoor shops line the edges of the park.

A massive guild of cazzies is heading towards the fast travel tower. I try to get out of their way, but their leader singles me out and approaches me.

“You there,” he says. “You can help us. We need all the help we can get.”

“I’m sorry, but—” I say.

“It doesn’t matter,” says the leader. “The Dawn Wonderers have sent out a draft notice and all players over forty are required to join.”

“I juts got here,” I say. “And I have a high-priority mission I need to complete.”

The leader clasps his hands together. “Do that, and you’ll be on the wrong side of the Dawn Wonderers.”

I put my hand to my ear and contact Garnet. “Hey,” I say, and I explain my situation.

“Sure,” says Garnet. “The Dawn Wonderers have the clout of a medium-sized government military. We wouldn’t want to offend them.”

I hang up, letting my hand fall to my side. “My superiors say I can come,” I say. I hate to cave in like this, but if I get on the wrong side of the rulers of this city it might hinder my mission.

Plus, I have time.

“Good,” says the leader. “My name is Maximilus.” He points to a pair of cazzies. “You’ll be with CA and HelpDog over there.”

I walk over to the two. They look at each other and shrug.

I extend my hand. “I’m RT,” I say.

CA shrugs. He takes my hand and shakes it. “What are your powers?” he asks.

“I’m a transition metal conjurer,” I say.

“Cool,” says CA. “Does that mean you can summon bismuth bronze and bantanum?”

“Of course,” I say. “Nearly as much as I want.”

I haven’t missed the boat, of course. I know that this CA is ColorfulAmber, my target. It’s neither lucky or unlucky that I got paired with him in this press-gang-style army. It merely changes my plans.

I don’t think I’ll need to use Tracking Beacon anymore. At the same time, if I capture him right now, it will disrupt the secrecy of the mission. Too many people are around.

I don’t know if he recognizes me—if he checks his status screen once, he’ll see me marked by the Tracking Beacon put on my by ReaperGoon.

But he doesn’t know what I look like.

The one thing that confuses me a tiny bit is the question of why Peter Cool is joining this expeditionary force. If he’s one of Mandrake Signa’s underlings, he must have a lot of power backing him up. Surely he can resist being press-ganged into the army of a guild who doesn’t have his best interests in mind.

Maximilus stands in front of the crowd of about fifty players. He sticks his gigantic sword in the ground, resting both arms on its hilt. “We’re going to beat them before they beat us!” he says. “We’re going to strike them before they strike us!” He claps his hands together. “Let’s go kill those kobolds!”

“Fill me in on the details,” I say, to HelpDog.

“There’s a clan of kobolds in a dungeon near here who are constantly stealing from us,” says HelpDog. “We’re going to teach them a lesson.”

“And this merits shanghaiing every player in the city?” I ask.

HelpDog shrugs. “I’m just a shopkeeper, man,” he says. “I don’t know why the leadership of this city does things the way they do.”

CA gives me a lopsided grin. “Well,” he says, “Killing things is always worth it.” A paintbrush and palate appear in his hand. “And I’m never one to run away from a good fight.”

Yikes. This is another type of person that I don’t deal well with. People who enjoy killing too much aren’t exactly my cup of tea.

Well, I doubt they’re anyone’s cup of tea.

It does soften the blow a bit when I realize we’re fighting against monsters that technically are not alive and are just manifestations of a large and eldritch Freax web.

But still.

Maximilus puts his gigantic sword on his back and steps up to the fast travel tower.

“Legion Dungeon!” he says, and the light carries him away.

“Legion Dungeon!” “Legion Dungeon!” “Legion Dungeon!”

One by one the members of the raiding party disappear into pillars of light. Then my turn comes.

“Legion Dungeon!” I say, and I am carried away by a ball of light.

The dungeon isn’t actually that far away. We land after about five seconds of travel.

The landscape is dominated by a gigantic mound of soil and rock. The red of the stone is saturated by the midday sun.

“So they’re in there?” I ask.

HelpDog shrugs. “Sure. I guess. I don’t call the shots.”

Maximilus stands before the raid group. “We’re going in, and we’re not leaving until they’re exterminated!” he says.

“Ho!” says a number of well-equipped soldiers. They bang their armor or their shields.

“Those are the core guild members,” says HelpDog.

“They’re pretty enthusiastic,” I say, “Considering we’re about to go into a combat zone.”

I consider taking out my specialty rifle, but decide against it. Instead, I conjure two short swords. My class is “Kenshi,” which is basically a weapons specialist, both ranged and close quarters. My “DPS,” or “Damage per Second,” is very high, but my defense is lacking.

Of course, I’m very good at dodging.

Maximilus turns to the dungeon and enters. His form is cast into shadow and then disappears.

He is followed by the rest of the raid guild. I am among the last to enter.

The sound of fighting echoes through the corridors.

“This way,” says Peter Cool. “I received orders to scout this area.”

HelpDog and I follow Peter Cool down a side path.

I am on high alert. At any point, Peter Cool could turn on me and try to kill me. HelpDog is just a bystander, but it’s not my job to protect him. I’ll still try anyways, but if it’s between HelpDog and my mission I’ll choose my mission.

Peter Cool leads us to a branch in the tunnel.

A spear flies out of the darkness and impales Peter Cool in the neck. Blood spurts across the walls.

“Whoa!” says HelpDog. He doesn’t appear surprised—instead, he appears triumphant.

“What just happened?” I ask.

HelpDog shakes his head. “The Dawn Wonderers have wanted ColorfulAmber dead for a long time,” he says.

I think it’s okay, at this point, to break secrecy surrounding my mission.

“I was tasked with capturing him too,” I say.

HelpDog chuckles. “Hey, man,” he says. “First come first sere.”

I kneel down beside ColorfulAmber. His body shimmers. After two seconds, it explodes into confetti-like pieces of tinfoil. A low laughter echoes through the dungeon.

“You thought you could pull one over on me?” it says. It is clearly Peter Cool.

A bear trap the size of a man appears out of nowhere and snaps HelpDog between two pieces of spiked steel. He hemorrhages a huge amount of blood and then lies limp.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” says Peter Cool. “RoundTable. You have made an enemy of some very powerful people.”

“It’s my job,” I say.

I assume a Gold Card has to be involved in whatever’s happening right now.

I notice a tiny little glint near my feet and roll to the side. Another gigantic bear trap snaps the air where I had been a second before.

“Binder. Bright Light!” I say.

The whole tunnel system is lit up like day. A shadow flits at the end of one of the branches.

I dodge another man trap and sprint towards the shadow. The bright light follows me through the corridors, keeping them lit.

Three identical avatars surround me, flickering. I stab at one of them and it disappears into smoke.

“My boss has given me a lot of toys to play with,” says Peter. “And I’m going to use them all. Spark!”

The whole tunnel system erupts into conflagration.

“Fire shield!” I yell. While I’m protected by the shield, I grab an oxygen mask from my binder and put it on. Just as I am finished securing it, the fire recedes.

I turn around the tunnel, watching for the slightest hint of danger. Peter Cool’s ability to create anything he can draw is a lot more powerful in combat than I thought it would be.

As a transition metal conjurer, I understand the concept, but the objects I conjure come from my subconscious.

I creep along the side of a wall. The rock is warm from the fire.

The rock behind me cracks. I roll away from the wall and dodge flying debris. A monster barges out of the stone, surrounded by shrapnel and dust. Its teeth hang past it reptilian jaw, and its six arms undulate. Its eyes lock onto me, and my world begins to fracture.

Tentacles reach into my mind. I begin to lose my identity. The laughter of Peter Cool echoes in my consciousness as I begin to slip into utter confusion.

A sword slashes across from my vision and the monster is separated into two. Trails of blue blood stretch between the two halves of the former monster.

I fall to the ground, scrabbling at my oxygen mask.

“Hey, hey,” says a voice. I recognize it—Maximilus. “Are you okay?” he says.

I shake my head. “What … What just happened?”

“You just met a crawler,” says Maximilus. “Their gaze causes confusion, and they hide in the walls of tunnels waiting for prey.” He turns to where HelpDog is still skewered by Peter Cool’s man trap. “What the hell happened here?”

“ColorfulAmber tried to kill us both,” I say.

Maximilus sighs. “I always knew CA had some shady connections,” he says. “All right. As the leader of the Dawn Wonderers I have to handle this.” He rubs his temples. “This mission has already been a travesty, and now this happens.”

“Is the invasion not going well?” I ask.

“There are crawlers all over the place,” says Maximilus. “We weren’t expecting that.”

“Are we going to retreat?” I ask.

“No,” says Maximilus. “We will fight until we win. We’re no cowards.”

I nod. I understand how that works. “Do you mind if I break from the group and hunt down ColorfulAmber?” I ask.

Maximilus snorts. “If you can take down that bastard, then you’ll be doing us a great favor.”

I bow. “It’s my pleasure.” I turn away from him. A pile of glitter marks the spot where Peter Cool’s body turned into confetti.

I have an idea. I touch a piece of the confetti. “Binder. Tracking Beacon.”

It works. “Status,” I say. I can now track Peter Cool through the dungeon.

It seems that he is going deeper, rather than trying to escape.

“I’ll be going,” I say, to Maximilus.

Maximilus smiles and turns away, walking beyond the reach of my bright light.

I check my status again. Peter Cool is about a hundred meters ahead of me, through the twisting maze of the dungeon. I keep away from the walls as I follow him deeper and deeper into the dungeon.

I follow him deeper and deeper. We are heading towards the core, the deepest part of the dungeon.  

Then he stops. His marker blinks a couple of times, and then begins to head towards me.

I know he knows I’m following him. Is he trying to fight me?

I conjure my swords and stand at the ready.

The dot passes by my location, and I see nothing. Nobody. Peter Cools is as good as invisible.

“I take it you’re the one who killed my friends,” says Peter. His voice echoes through the cavern, preventing me from gauging its location.

I turn in circles as I try to figure out where he is.

“I can kill you now if I want, but I want you to suffer,” says Peter. He cackles. “The United States, and every other imperialist warmonger country, will kneel to the true kings.”

“The US isn’t the bad guy,” I say.

“Say that to the countries that you’ve invaded,” says Peter. “Imperialism and capitalism are a scourge. They must be purged from the collective.”

A see a glimmer of light. I think it’s Peter’s essence. I strike at it, it flickers, and then it reappears behind me.

“You can’t touch me when I’m in this state,” says Peter.

The back of my head tingles. I dive to the ground. An arrow flies over my head, zipping through the air.

Surprise Negation just saved my life.

“Quick, aren’t you?” says Peter. “But my next shot won’t miss.”

“I’ll take you out before then,” I say. “Status.” If I can’t see him physically, I’ll just find out where he is through Trackig Beacon. It’s going to be a shot in the dark but I think I’ll make it.

I conjure a bow and a tranquilizing dart. Watching the status screen, I fire exactly where Peter’s dot is.

The arrow stops in mid-air, and Peter materializes out of nothing. I run up to him and capture him with the apprehension module. Before he disappears, I hear him groan “Bell …”

Target acquired. I stand up and survey the tunnels around me. I have no idea where I am.

Since this tunnel is crawling with monsters, I have to be very careful not to lose my way.

I backtrack as far as I can remember, and find myself at the place where HelpDog was trapped. His body is stiffening, still encased in the man trap.

What a brutal way to die.

I pass the body, making sure to mark where it is so that his guild can recover it. I then back my way through the dungeon until I find the entrance.

11

***

Avarice: The Realm Chapter 9: The Rocks

The Rocks

I’m sitting at a bench at Fort Lincoln, thinking. I need to attach Tracking Beacon to Peter Cool before I can make my next move. Before I can do that, I need to know about a place he’s likely to touch and trigger Sticky Glue. Since we’ve captured Ratsi, we have a good source of that information.

I just have to wait for the interrogators to do their job.

The glint of a scope pops into my peripheral vision and I dive to the ground. A bullet flies over my head and strikes the dirt, sending up a puff of shrapnel.

I get behind a truck, putting the vehicle between me and the sniper.

It’s not the first time someone has tried to snipe me. But I know that, had my adversary been more experienced, or if I had been less observant, I would be less a brain right now.

I peek around the vehicle. “Binder,” I say. “Telescope.”

I scan the desert rocks where I first saw the glint. The formation is about twenty meters tall, filled with cracks, with the occasional cactus sticking out between them.

I see the glint again, and zero in on a male sniper wearing tan camouflage.

I sprint between the truck and a concrete barrier. As I lean against the wall, I conjure my bow.

I pop out and fire while diving. The arrow flies true, and a small spurt of blood tells me that I’ve hit my mark.

I put my hand to my ear and activate telepathy. “Garnet,” I say. “I just took out a sniper who was after me.”

“A sniper?” says Garnet. “Nobody should have been able to get that close.”

“I’m heading over to examine the corpse,” I say. I creep towards the rock formation, measuring about ten feet a minute. There could be two, or the one could be not dead.

I reach the rock formation and press against it. “Binder, periscope,” I say. I toss the view half up to the top of the rock formation.

The man is clearly and totally dead. My arrow is embedded in the man’s eye.

I climb the rock formation and examine the corpse. There’s nothing on him that would indicate an affiliation. His gun has no marks, and I’m not entirely sure what make and model it is.

Garnet and several X-marines climb up the formation behind me. Garnet kneels next to the corpse.

“We’ll get an ID on him,” she says. She points to two marines. “Help me carry this body away.”

When the marines are gone, Garnet sits against a rock. “We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again,” she says.

“I don’t know how we can do that,” I say. “They know where I am at all times, and a good sniper can get past any sort of defense.”

“Binder,” Garnet says. She slips a card out and gives it to me.

It has a gold border.

“You’re giving this to me?” I say.

Garnet nods. “The US government has three of this specific card,” she says. “This is one of them.”

I look at the card. Surprise Negation.

“This card takes effect whenever you’re going to be surprised by an attack. The effect is permanent. You’ll know about the attack as soon as your enemy is in place.”

“How much is it worth?” I ask.

“Don’t ask that,” says Garnet. “Just know that the brass value the death of Mandrake more than they do this card.”

“Couldn’t someone else take my place if I were to be killed?” I ask.

Garnet shakes her head. “It’s because of your track record so far. The brass, to be honest, thought that you wouldn’t even be able to take out one of them. We’ve tried so many times that they were cynical.”

“So this is akin to a reward,” I say.

“Exactly,” says Garnet. “Now use the card.”

“Binder, Surprise Negation,” I say. A little flicker of light attaches to me and then disappears. The card disintegrates.

I feel no different than before. Scratching my nose, I look off at the horizon.

“Did it take effect?” I say.

“It should have,” says Garnet.

“Well, I trust you,” I say.

Garnet grins. “Great,” she says. “That was a huge investment on the part of the government.”

“Thanks again,” I say. I climb down the rock formation.

Garnet follows.

Pierre approaches us as soon as we enter the compound. “We have the information we need,” he says. “Ratsi caved when we offered her a plea deal outside The Realm.”

“Hah,” says Garnet. “That proves her loyalty to Mandrake was only superficial.”

Pierre nods. “I agree with that assessment,” he says. “But in any case, we have the information we need to proceed.”

I turn away from the two, looking back up at the rock formation. Something about it gives me the chills. As if the rock itself has a soul and it’s watching me.

Pierre holds his hand to his ear. “We have an ID on the assassin,” he says.

I turn to him. “And?” I say.

Pierre sighs. “Looks like a rogue Finnish sniper. He’s been wanted by INTERPOL for several years now.”

“Finland?” I say. “What about his gun?”

“Let me check,” he says, hand still at his ear. “What’s the ID on the weapon?” He’s talking through telepathy, so I can only hear one side of the conversation.

“Right, yes,” he says. “I’ll let him know.”

“It’s a custom rifle,” says Pierre. “It has some sort of hybrid magical system embedded in it. We believe that there could have been a gold card involved in its manufacture.” He sighs. “But we can’t seem to ID what kind of ammo it uses.”

“If you get me one of the bullets,” I say, “I can replicate them.”

Pierre nods. “Pierre to base. Get me one of the bullets from the rifle.” He sits on a bench and continues his telepathic conversation.

I watch the rock formation, still feeling a bit queasy about it.

Five minutes later an X-marine brings the rifle and a bag full of bullets. I take both the gun and the bullets and sit down at a small metal table to investigate.

I hold my hand over one of the bullets and activate my secondary ability, composition read. It’s not a card and has no relation to The Realm outside of being a Freax power.

Looks like these bullets are made from uranium-cored bismuth bronze. The Realm sure has an infatuation with this specific kind of alloy.

With the knowledge of how it works, I can reproduce it. I don’t know how I do it, not consciously, but I know I can. I conjure a handful of bullets, all slightly different.

“Can I use your firing range?” I ask.

“Sure,” says Garnet.

Pierre is still engaged in a conversation.

Garnet leads me to the shooting range on the other side of Fort Lincoln. I am carrying the rifle.

Several X-marines are using the range, but there are plenty of open spots.

I settle in with the rifle and load it—it’s bolt action. My first shot goes wild—the scope must have been unaligned when I killed the assassin. I zero it in after a few shots and then test the ammo I conjured.

It works. I’m a little scared about the fact that these bullets use depleted uranium, but the bismuth bronze coating should prevent too much radiation from escaping.

Also, the bullet is in a special, unique caliber that I’ve never seen before. This gun is most definitely custom.

I like it. Turning to Garnet, I smile. “Can I keep this?” I ask.

“Sure,” says Garnet. “I’m not sure if I have the authority, but you need a better weapon than what you can conjure on your own.”

I place the rifle on a table. “Great. I’ll make sure that this gun works for us.”

It’s been a while since I last used a gun for my primary weapon. Now seems as good a time as any to change that. This rifle shoots in a way that reminds me of my childhood, and I think I’m feeling a bit of a connection with it.

Hunting trips with my father. That’s where I learned to shoot, to track, and to defeat my quarry.

Garnet takes out her own pistol and begins shooting down the range.

I pick the rifle back up and fire another couple of shots. All of them go exactly where I want them to.

Garnet and I spend the next hour or so shooting, and in that time I manage to deconstruct the ammunition completely, matching everything with how the gun was designed to shoot.

Pierre enters the shooting range, waving at me.

“Hey!” he says. “RT.”

“Yes?” I say, putting down my gun.

“We figured out what kind of weapon that is,” says Pierre, pointing at the gun. “It’s a custom, of course, but it was actually manufactured here in The Realm.”

“I mean, it makes sense,” I say. “It was probably made by a conjurer anyways.”

Pierre shakes his head. “Of course,” he says. “But we managed to contact the man who made it. We might be able to buy some off him.”

“This gun should be enough for me,” I say. “But if you can outfit some elite soldiers with this I wouldn’t complain.”

Pierre shrugs. “Yeah. Just wanted to let you know. Maybe you can learn something from this conjurer.”

I turn back to the shooting range. “Makes sense,” I say. I pick my gun back up. “Card,” I say. The gun turns into card form, and I slip it into my binder. I also turn several dozen bullets into card form.

“Another thing,” says Pierre. He hands me a piece of paper. “This is the information we got from Ratsi. Peter Cool lives in a penthouse apartment in the Western Biome city of Endiga.”

I take the slip. “I can probably sneak in somehow and implant Sticky Glue.” I pause, turning to Garnet.

She takes her ear protection off and puts her gun down. “Are we ready for this?” she says.

“Get me a copy of Sticky Glue,” I say, “Plus Tracking Beacon, Wall Walk, Light Bend, and Transportal.”

Garnet smiles. “Will do, chief!” she says. She jogs away towards the card storage building.

I am left standing next to Pierre. He turns to the shooting range. “Transportal, eh?” he says. “No one uses those. The fast travel towers are too convenient.” He scratches his head. “How are you going to use it?”

“You’ll see,” I say. I walk away from the range. Pierre follows me.

I absent-mindedly flip my half medallion between my fingers. “If there’s nothing stopping me,” I say, “I’d like to implant the Tracking Beacon on Peter Cool as soon as possible.”

“We won’t stop you,” says Pierre. He salutes. “Good luck with your mission.”

I walk to the fast travel tower.

“Endiga!” I say, and I am transported away.